


But I Remember Everything

by lizwontcry



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, the opposite of christmas cheer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28291908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/pseuds/lizwontcry
Summary: Jesse didn’t know what he was asking. He didn’t know what he wanted. This, or the opposite of this. He couldn’t find his voice; he couldn’t say no when Walt was looking into his eyes, Walt’s own eyes so sincere and dark with desire.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	But I Remember Everything

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I came across this version of Hurt by Nine Inch Nails - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAqP7M1A6HE - and it got under my skin, and of course, me being me, I thought "Can I use this to write some depressing shit about my most painful OTP?" So. Happy Holidays to y'all and rock on.

_I hurt myself today  
To see if I still feel  
I focus on the pain  
The only thing that's real  
The needle tears a hole  
The old familiar sting  
Try to kill it all away  
But I remember everything_

\- Hurt - Nine Inch Nails -

*****

The first time.

The first time was after Gale.

After they watched a cold-blooded killer put a knife in their associate's throat.

But before they went to Denny's.

The two of them were understandably a complete mess after cleaning up the lab--mentally, yes, but physically as well. Mike took one look at them and sighed, shaking his head in disgust. 

"Look, you two morons obviously can't go out in public like that. I'll go get you some clothes. Take a shower or something, you stink."

Like they were going anywhere near the place Gus had cleaned himself off after... what happened. 

Like they had any choice.

They watched as Mike climbed the endless stairs and closed the door behind him.

Walt indicated to Jesse that he could use the shower first, but Jesse shook his head and moodily sank back into the chair he was sitting in during Gus' one act murder play. Walt stood under the spray of water and tried to think of anything but the merciless sounds Victor made as Gus slit his throat.

When they were both finished hosing off the best they could, they tried to ignore the fact they were chilling out in just their underwear (Walt, of course, clad in tighty whities, and Jesse in his  
boxers) while waiting for Mike to come back.

"Yo, I need a cigarette so bad right now," Jesse said impatiently. "When is that prick getting back?"

"I don't know, Jesse. He didn't exactly give me a chance to implant a GPS tracker before he left," Walt said sarcastically, and then immediately felt like a real asshole. Seeing what Jesse did for him mere hours ago, could he really give Jesse shit about _anything_ , at least for a little while?

"I'm sorry. Sorry. It's just... you know." Walt waved a hand around to indicate the mess they'd gotten themselves into this time.

"Yeah. I get it." Jesse maneuvered his chair over to the desk where Walt was sitting. Walt regarded him closely. He looked... jumpy. Well, of course he did. Of course Jesse wasn't feeling any kind of normal after everything he'd seen, not to mention done. Walt realized their body count was steadily rising; if they kept doing what they're doing, there was going to be a lot more to add to the total, and probably soon. He never saw himself as a killer, but… things change.

He couldn't help but feel an unusual rush of sympathy for Jesse and what he was asked to do. They've killed people for each other; there's no other way to see it. Walt ran over the dealers because he knew Jesse was going to get himself killed if he took them on by himself. And Jesse shot Gale simply because Walt needed him to do it. They were so inextricably linked at this point, and Walt didn't know what to do about it, or if there was even anything _to_ do. They're in too deep now.

"Yo, why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?" Jesse wrinkled his nose like he'd be able to see if something was there.

"No, no. I just... I'm thinking. About everything we've had to do."

Jesse nodded, but now he was looking at Walt peculiarly. He scooted closer to him, so close that Walt could feel Jesse’s breath on his face. It was a little startling, to say the least.

"What? Do _I_ have something on _my_ face?"

"Yeah... you still have some blood... next to your mouth," Jesse said. As Jesse's moody blue eyes stared at Walt's mouth so intensely, Walt felt a sudden ache in his stomach--and it wasn't because he skipped dinner.

Walt moved his hand to wipe the blood off but Jesse grabbed it in mid-air. 

"Here... let me get it for you," he murmured, and before Walt could even blink, Jesse licked just the smallest corner of Walt's lips, barely even touching him. 

He retreated a little and grinned at Walt hungrily. Walt had no idea what was happening here, but he wasn't exactly... opposed to it.

"Jesse. That's... unhygienic." 

"Yeah? Is _this_ unhygienic?"

Jesse suddenly hopped off his chair and was in Walt's lap in mere seconds. He straddled Walt, his face inches away from his own. Walt had never seen Jesse be so quick about anything; most of the time he was so morose about whatever task he was asked to apply himself to next. 

But that wasn't the point, because now he suddenly had a lap full of Jesse Pinkman.

Walt was quiet as Jesse licked his lips again, and not just the corner this time. Jesse put his hand around Walt's neck, moving him closer, exploring his mouth with his own--if Walt had to define it, he wouldn't say it was kissing, exactly. He placed his hands on Jesse's waist, feeling the dimples in his hips. Something involuntarily inside of him moved Walt to run his fingertips over those dimples. Jesse let out the slightest moan, and Walt's body instantly responded.

"Jesse..." Walt could barely think of anything but how their erections were tight against each other; feeling the warmth radiate from Jesse boxers was making him a little delirious. 

Jesse pulled back and looked in Walt's eyes, and he was surprised to see a little moisture had collected in Jesse's own. He knew Jesse was confused, and maybe he should put a stop to this. But... 

"Jesse, do you even want..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"What I _want_ is to forget, yo. Forget about it all. Just for a few minutes. Just for right now. And I think..." Jesse moved his hips enough to rut against Walt's crotch, and Walt closed his eyes and sharply inhaled at the sensation. "I think you want to forget, too."

Walt opened his eyes again. Jesse looked so earnest and genuine as he moved against Walt. He reached out and grazed Jesse's tattoo with his fingers; he'd seen the dragon before, but now it obviously seemed much more intimate and up close. Walt found himself even more curious--he brushed his hand down, softly touching Jesse’s nipple with two fingers, liking the way the instantly hard bud felt under his fingertips. Jesse moaned again and crashed into Walt’s mouth. _Now_ Walt would call it kissing.

Nothing about the kissing was particularly tender or loving--not that Walt would expect that or even necessarily wanted it. It seemed like Jesse was on a mission or something; a mission to consume Walt whole. At some point Walt just decided to go with it, because… well, because it felt good. And Jesse needed it. And maybe he needed it, too.

It wasn’t long before he felt Jesse’s hand grip his bulge through his underwear. Jesse grunted appreciatively at what he found there, perhaps because Walt was clearly quite aroused by the situation. 

Walt had the sudden desire to touch Jesse, too; to know what Jesse would feel like, pulsing and throbbing in his hand. But Jesse was way ahead of him. He had already pulled down his boxers and adjusted himself so that he and Walt’s erections basically collided together. Walt gasped at the sensation--slickness on slickness, hardness and warmth held together by Jesse’s slightly shaking hand. 

“Jesse…” Walt whispered. Jesse looked up at him with his big blue eyes, but didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he kept Walt’s stare as he started moving his hand around both of their cocks, quickly finding a rhythm that made Walt quiver and shake in a way he hadn’t in years--maybe ever. 

Jesse leaned in and Walt did the same, their foreheads touching, Walt’s hands on Jesse’s bare shoulders, digging his fingers into the lean muscles there as Jesse continued stroking both of them with a breathtaking intensity. They were both breathing hard, gasping, moaning. Walt claimed Jesse’s mouth again as he felt himself on the brink. Their lips frantically meet again and again. And when Walt finally did come, Jesse’s tongue searching for his own was the icing on the cake of this thrilling, unexpected orgasm. Jesse quickly followed, and Walt stared at him, memorizing the look on his sweet face as he came, his eyes pinched shut, slightly biting his lip. He knew he wouldn’t forget that look any time soon.

There was fortunately a box of tissues on the desk, and Walt fished one out to clean them both up. Jesse let out a small whimper as Walt gently touched him. When he was done, Jesse hesitantly moved off of Walt’s lap and sat back in his own chair, pulling his boxers back up.

Thankfully this--and not a second sooner--was when Mike chose to make his entrance back into the lab. 

Walt shared a look with Jesse while Mike took his time descending the stairs. They didn’t need to discuss this or even mention it again. It was something they shared to dull the pain.

And it worked. For a while.

*****

_I wear this crown of shit  
Upon my liar's chair  
Full of broken thoughts  
I cannot repair  
Beneath the stains of time  
The feelings disappear  
You are someone else  
I am still right here_

*****

When it happened again, they had all the time in the world. The door was locked, and instead of uncomfortable desk chairs, there was a bed.

They could deal with Gus later.

Although Jesse had contemplated killing Walt somewhat often, he’d never actually tried to follow through with it. But Brock was in the hospital and Jesse was _sure_ that Walt was solely responsible. He held the gun to Walt's head, demanding he tell Jesse why he poisoned Brock, _why_ would _anyone_ do that to a little kid?! 

And of course, as he always did, Walt talked his way out of it.

Perhaps inevitably, they ended up in Walt's bedroom. 

Jesse wanted to leave; he wanted to find Gus and personally end him as soon as possible. But Walt made him a dozen promises as he gently pulled Jesse to the bedroom. And Jesse believed them all. At least part of him figured he owed Walt this much; he did nearly kill him with his own gun, after all.

Walt made quick work out of undressing them both and pushing Jesse onto the bed. Jesse numbly let it happen. He sort of wanted this as much as Walt, but it was also difficult to go from hating him with every fiber of his being to feeling Walt’s tongue searching his mouth, dropping to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He gasped a little when Walt licked his nipple, suckling it  
gently while his fingers played with the other one. 

“Jesse… I want this so much,” Walt whispered in his ear. “I want _you_ so much.”

Apparently Jesse unlocked something in Walt when he mounted him at the lab. It seemed like ages ago now, but it was only a few months. And Jesse had to admit that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat with his boxers damp, after dreaming about exactly what Walt was doing to him now. 

Jesse reached out and gently took Walt’s glasses off, putting them on the table next to the bed. Walt seemed a little fazed by this small gesture; he glanced at Jesse with a wistful look in his steely hazel eyes.

Walt rolled over on his back and brought Jesse on top of him, kissing him the whole time. Jesse would never admit it but he liked the way they fit together, chest to chest, Jesse’s small frame against Walt’s strong, sturdy one. In a weird way it made him feel protected. Safe. Which, in turn, made him feel absolutely ridiculous and slightly insane. 

“Gus wants me to stay away from you… but how can I? How can I, Jesse? I can’t stop thinking about you. About your lips, your eyes, and… this,” Walt murmured, as he moved his hand into Jesse’s boxers. His other hand was stroking Jesse’s back. Why did it all feel so goddamn _good?_

“Please… Mr. White…” Jesse didn’t know what he was asking. He didn’t know what he wanted. This, or the opposite of this. He couldn’t find his voice; he couldn’t say no when Walt was looking into his eyes, Walt’s own eyes so sincere and dark with desire. He wasn’t insulting Jesse or demeaning him or demanding anything from him. So Jesse kissed Walt back, wanting the closeness, wanting Walt’s warm mouth on his neck, wanting to be everything Walt needed. Walt never stopped touching him, not even for one second. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, Jesse. Please let me make you feel good. Please let me help you forget, like you said before.” 

Now they were laying sideways, facing each other, Walt’s hand on Jesse’s face, while his other hand caressed his cock gently, almost _too_ gently. It seemed like Walt wanted to fulfill some kind of fucked up fantasy he had in his head, so Jesse didn’t make any moves of his own, he only reciprocated Walt’s touch and kisses. 

Jesse knew what direction this was heading in, though. Walt was too desperate for this just to end with a hasty handjob. So to speed it along, he whispered in Walt’s ear, “Fuck me.” Not that  
he actually wanted it to happen, but it may as well. Why not?

Walt moaned into his mouth. “God, yes. I’ll make you feel so good,” he said again. And the weird thing was, Jesse knew he would. He wasn’t going to hurt him. He would never hurt him… Jesse _really_ wanted to believe that.

Jesse watched as Walt moved away for a moment and reached into the drawer by the bed. He knew what Walt was retrieving, and he could feel himself leak a little in anticipation. His body wanted this more than his brain did, apparently.

Walt was kissing him again, grazing Jesse’s belly with his fingertips, which made his cock twitch more than he would have liked. There was something to be said for foreplay, Jesse supposed. But he knew what Walt really wanted.

“Oh, Jesse, you don’t even know. You don’t know how stunning you are,” Walt breathed, moving back to look at Jesse, his body, his face. Jesse felt so exposed, but also so taken care of, in a way he hadn’t been before.

“I’m ready, Mr. White… please.”

Walt didn’t need to ask what he was ready for exactly. Jesse kept his eyes closed as he heard the jar being opened. A moment later, he felt Walt’s thumb gently pressing on his entrance, slowly but surely, teasing it. He gasped as Walt then dipped it further inside of him. It was weird, but it was… fuck, it lit all his nerves on fire. 

“It’s okay, Jesse. I promise, I’m going to make you feel so good…”

Jesse nodded. He was on his back, but he turned on his side facing away from Walt--he couldn’t look at him. He didn’t want Walt to see his face. Walt didn’t get to have that part of him.

Walt went with it. He massaged Jesse’s shoulder with one hand while he slipped a second finger into him. Jesse couldn’t help it--he moaned as the two fingers worked themselves in and out of him. His body started to adjust to the feeling and he wanted more, almost as much as he wanted nothing. 

“You’re doing so good. Oh, Jesse, you’re doing so good,” Walt breathed. Jesse inhaled sharply as Walt tried a third finger, and somehow quickly found that place inside of him that made his whole body shiver.

“Oh, god, Mr. White,” Jesse whimpered. “Please… please fuck me _now_.” Even his voice betrayed him now. 

Walt didn’t need to be told twice. He moved closer to Jesse, putting his hand on Jesse’s hip, rubbing it gently with his palm as he guided his cock inside. Jesse gasped when Walt moved inside of him, and reached back to grip Walt’s thigh. Walt took the hint and waited while Jesse adjusted again. 

Jesse took a couple of deep breaths, and then said softly, “Okay.” Walt began thrusting, slowly at first, and then more quickly as Jesse continued to dig his fingers into Walt’s thighs. 

“So tight, Jesse. You feel so good, so tight… oh, god,” Walt moaned, and Jesse cried out in pleasure, pain, maybe a mixture of both, maybe none of the above. Jesse began to stroke himself as Walt moved rhythmically inside of him; this was somehow an extension of their partnership, of how, when they were in the RV or the lab, they managed to read each other’s minds when the cook was going well. Partners, always partners.

Jesse’s whole body was responding to the complete and total fullness, and _then_ Walt found his prostate. He didn’t know his body was capable of feeling like this. Weightless, motionless, boneless. It was surreal. It unraveled something deep inside of Jesse; and he felt himself coming apart at the seams.

“Mr. White… I’m sorry,” Jesse whispered as Walt kept thrusting into him, each movement making Jesse’s head spin again and again. “I’m sorry… about the gun. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I know you. My Jesse. You’ll always be _my_ Jesse,” Walt breathed, and Jesse knew that was true, whether he liked it or not.

They clung to each other as Walt continued to dismantle him from top to bottom. Jesse hated this man, he loved this man, he didn’t know what to do without this man. It was too much, and it wasn’t enough.

Walt reached for Jesse’s cock, and Jesse moved his hand to let Walt take over. It only took two or three strokes for Jesse to lose control. He groaned as the orgasm rocked his entire body.  
Walt grunted when Jesse’s come spewed in his hand, and soon enough he felt Walt burst inside of him, warm liquid filling him up, making him feel even fuller than before. As Walt slowly slid out of him, he felt like he was losing something. Something he never even wanted but now couldn’t forget.

Walt held him closely, kissing the back of his neck, the two of them wet, sticky, and sweaty. And Jesse knew who he belonged to. For better or for worse.

He needed to get up; get the hell out of bed. Go to the hospital, find out how Brock was, stay by Andrea’s side. But Walt curled up against Jesse, his hands caressing him all over, whispering empty words into his ear. And Jesse realized with great sadness that he didn’t _want_ to be anywhere else.

*****

_What have I become?  
My sweetest friend  
Everyone I know  
Goes away in the end  
You could have it all  
My empire of dirt  
I will let you down  
I will make you hurt_

_I wear this crown of shit  
Upon my liar's chair  
Full of broken thoughts  
I cannot repair  
Beneath the stains of time  
The feelings disappear  
You are someone else  
I am still right here _

*****

In Alaska, Jesse didn't think about Walt. And when his former teacher, partner, and whatever-the-fuck _did_ enter his mind, he'd close his eyes and try to think of something else. Usually the next thought that came to him was the sound of Todd's anguished grunts as Jesse strangled the life out of him. Which wasn't much better, but at least it was something else.

Only occasionally did he let himself drift back to the moment where Walt threw the phone down on the concrete and regarded Jesse from across the parking lot. It was dark but Jesse could still see the pain in Walt's eyes. He could still see his jacket and shirt stained with blood. He could still see the oceans of regret plastered on his face. And he fell for it yet again. In that moment, Jesse gave Walt what he wanted the most and deserved the least--his forgiveness. 

Sometimes Jesse would wake up from--well, he didn’t know if it was a dream or a nightmare--that was the same scenario every single time. A dream (or nightmare) so detailed and so clear that he was starting to blur the lines between fantasy and reality. 

Instead of getting in the El Camino and driving as fast as he could, as far away as possible, he found himself moving towards Walt. Walt looked up at him, as though he was expecting Jesse to put him out of his misery right then and there. And Jesse probably should have, but instead he grabbed Walt's hand and pulled him towards the car. When they covered the short distance, Jesse slammed Walt into the car and their lips met desperately. Walt probably couldn't have been less in the mood for this, and maybe that's why Jesse wanted it so badly.

Jesse probably should have been more careful with Walt, seeing what kind of state he was in. But he didn’t want to be. Walt had betrayed him; he sent him off with Todd and the Nazis and ruined his whole fucking life. He had scars now, permanent scars, and not just physical ones. Not to mention Andrea was dead and so was Jane. All because of Walt. The man who blackmailed him into being his partner, and wouldn’t stop until everyone’s lives were utterly and completely ruined or permanently ended.

“Jesse, please, I…” Walt seemed utterly at a loss for words, which is exactly where Jesse wanted him.

“Get in the backseat,” Jesse demanded, and bit Walt’s lip for emphasis. Walt regarded him for a minute before doing as he was told. Jesse got in beside him, and didn’t give Walt a moment’s peace before he was in Walt’s lap, attacking his mouth, tasting blood--much like the first time they came together like this. Jesse was the one who started it and he would be the one to end it.

He didn’t care that he was getting blood from Walt’s bullet wound all over him. He didn’t care that the police were probably on their way. All he wanted was a last time with this man who ruined his life. Who changed his life. Who _was_ his life.

“I don’t know if I can…” Walt murmured, his voice low, full of pain and regret. Jesse knew if Walt could go back and change things, he would. He just believed that about Walter White. Even if he was just deluding himself.

“You can. Stay still,” Jesse murmured. He unbuckled Walt’s belt, unzipped his pants, and brought out Walt’s cock. Even if he was in the middle of just fucking dying, he was still half-hard. 

Walt weakly put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders as Jesse stroked him, _needing_ to make him fully hard, getting him to where he wanted Walt the most. Walt closed his eyes and slightly moaned. 

“Jesse… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I made a mistake. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I know you. My Mr. White. You’ll always be _my_ Mr. White.” Whenever Jesse had this dream, he never understood why he repeated this line Walt said to him before, back in his bedroom. He really needed to have a few words with his subconscious.

Jesse continued working Walt into a frenzy. It took longer than the previous times, for obvious reasons, but Walt’s body finally fully responded to Jesse’s desperate urgency.

In his dream, Jesse just had to crawl into the front seat and open the glove box of the El Camino to get out the lube. There wasn’t a logical reason for it to be there, but it didn’t matter. He moved to the backseat again, and hastily took his dirty sweatpants off. Walt watched with interest as Jesse put the lube on his fingers and worked himself open, closing his eyes and imagining it was Walt opening him up instead. And then, it was. Walt reached out to take over, and Jesse cried out when he felt Walt’s fingers curling inside of him. Even in a dream Walt still wanted control.

When Jesse couldn’t take it anymore, he straddled Walt and carefully placed Walt’s dick inside of him. Walt gasped, his glasses all askew, sweat beading on his forehead. His beard somehow felt reassuring to Jesse as he kissed him, taking his mouth over and over, sticking his tongue nearly down his throat as Walt grasped Jesse’s bare hips. They moved together as they always did--in a perfect rhythm, in a mesmerizing partnership.

There were no promises being made, no sweet utterances coming from Walt’s mouth. He was too tired. Life was leaving his body bit by bit; it almost seemed like he was transferring everything he had left to Jesse. Like he left all his belongings in his last will and testament to Jesse; Walt’s useless body, his faithless life, his flawed soul. 

Jesse rested his forehead on Walt’s as he did all the work, lowering and lifting himself up, crying out, getting to that place where he couldn’t imagine ever feeling this way ever again. And he wouldn’t. It simply wasn’t possible.

He realized he was crying when Walt wiped a tear from his face with his thumb. 

“Jesse… oh, Jesse… I’m so sorry… please forgive me…” He kissed Jesse’s face, his eyelids, his lips. Jesse groaned as Walt managed to plunge into him harder and deeper, with more intensity than he possibly could have given in his state. But somehow he was managing it, and Jesse never wanted it to end.

Jesse tried not to say what he’d been thinking ever since Walt pushed the gun over to him inside the compound. He tried so hard because Walt didn’t deserve it, not even a little, but it came out of him anyway as he felt himself get closer and closer to the precipice of a life-shattering orgasm.

“Mr. White… please don’t leave me… please don’t leave me,” Jesse mumbled, ashamed of himself as much as freeing himself. “Please don’t leave me.”

He didn’t want Walt to go, but he wanted Heisenberg to die. He wanted the miserable human being Walt had become to burn in hell, but he wanted his boring, annoying chemistry teacher to come back to life. He wanted his partner, the one he high-fived in an RV once they realized they were getting rich, the one he sat in a Mexican food restaurant and cheered a good diagnosis with, the one who made him breakfast at his house after one of their more epic fights… he wanted that version of Mr. White to return to him.

And maybe he would, if he wasn’t chock-full of cancer and bullets. Because _this_ version of Walter White, the one who was so deep inside of him that Jesse could feel him in his soul, was the one who risked it all to jump on Jesse, who released him from this prison, who would ultimately die to protect him. 

“Please don’t leave me,” Jesse whimpered once more.

“I don’t want to leave you. But I have to…” Walt’s voice was fading. Everything was fading. “I have no choice. Please believe me, Jesse.”

None of it mattered anymore. As Jesse came on Walt’s belly, and just a moment later as he felt Walt release inside of him… it didn’t matter, because Walt _was_ leaving him. Every version of him. The good and the bad, his mentor and his captor. They were all dying, all at once, all at the same time.

The dream always ended before the sirens started ringing in their ears; it was just the two of them, clinging to each other in the backseat of the El Camino. Walt was whispering something in Jesse’s ear that he could never hear--but it sounded like maybe it was the three little words that Jesse both dreaded and craved.

And then the dream--or nightmare--was over. And Jesse would wake up in a cold sweat, hoping that this would be the last time. Until the next time.

Because it was never the last time.

*****

_What have I become?  
My sweetest friend  
Everyone I know  
Goes away in the end  
And you could have it all  
My empire of dirt  
I will let you down  
I will make you hurt_

_If I could start again  
A million miles away  
I would keep myself  
I would find a way_

**Author's Note:**

> I will accept your Christmas/holiday gifts in the form of kudos and comments, thank you and rock on.


End file.
